New Vegas: A Ghoul's Perspective
by FloodFeSTeR
Summary: Alexander returns to the Mojave after six years in the Capitol Wasteland. Low on caps, he takes the wrong job for the Mojave Express and wakes up robbed and lucky to be alive. He takes to revenge easily but finds himself in over his head when he realizes he alone decides the fate of the Mojave. What's a ghoul to do?
1. Back To The Land Of The Living

**_Because I can't make a male character for beans, Alex (ander) belongs to_** _coduss_ ** _, I just get to play with him._**

 ** _S: 8 - P: 6 - E: 8 - C: 10 - I: 6 (more_** _wise_ _ **from age) - A: 5 - L: 8 (being able to survive post nuclear apocalypse for 200 years as a race hated by most is called Lucky)**_

 ** _Note:_** _please ignore any spelling mistakes. Thank you. I write on a phone, so its hard to proof-read to be honest._

* * *

 ** _"Welcome Back To The Land Of The Living."_**

* * *

The Mojave stinks like no other place I've ever been to.

Sitting at a bar in the middle of a sun baked desert, I know I miss D.C. somethin' awful. I miss the whole damn place, the Deathclaws and the robots, the dust storms that smell like Brahmin shit. An old friend called the place Hell and home, loved to hate it but never wanted to leave. Took me too long to understand, and now it was too late to matter.

I sip at the whiskey in my glass and wonder if she's married, wonder if she finally talked down that hard ass she loved so much. I miss her, I even miss _that_ ass hole, but Mojave is home and I had to take a moment to return and live it up in Vegas for awhile.

I hold out my glass for the graying bar tender to refill and she does it well. As I sip at the luke warm brew, I try to purge D.C. from my memory. I have a job to do, a delivery job - haven't done that in a long time. For about a hundred fifty three years, I've been a bodyguard, for a couple years before - a delivery man. Courier pays pretty well, surprised there wasn't a branch in D.C.; that place is wild and I understand it a little bit. They'd lose more than they would gain over there.

I raise my brow when I hear the saloon door slam open, hear a cackling and see an arm thrown over Sunny Smiles' shoulder. She's blushing and trying to hide in strawberry blonde hair, a stark contrast to the checkered suit pressed against her gentle curves.

He's slick and pretty, a Vegas local and everyone knows it. A hotel owner, perhaps, he certaintly looks that clean.

He sees me and something changes but his smile is still there and he's whispering something in Sunny's ear but her dog is growling and I reach for my gun. But he doesn't notice and I'm not obvious because no sense in scaring the locals.

But I don't like him and he already doesn't like me and this won't end well.

* * *

I woke up with whiplash.

Never done that before. . .I don't like it.

"Easy now," an old, rusty voice days from my left.

I wanna look at him, I really do, but everything blurs and wobbles when I open my eyes so I'm just gonna keep em closed a little longer. The air smells musty and a tad like chemicals, a smell further explained by the sound of bubbling just ahead of me; must be a slapped - together chemistry set, judging by the hiss I catch from cracked glass. James would be so ashamed to see that. . .well, I can't see it and I'm embarassed for this stranger.

"Can I ask where I am," I mutter, rubbing my eyes tenderly.

A soft chuckle introduces what I wanted to hear. "Goodsprings, son."

I sigh in relief and dare to open my eyes again, the blurs settling in the edges now. "Thank God," I blink a few times, feeling a dull ache in my temple, I can't tell which. It feels like my head is stuffed with cotton. "Remember me, lad?"

Mitchell chuckles, stroking a well groomed mustache. "Yeah, yeah I do. If I didn't know better, I'd say I'm too old to be called 'lad' just like you're too old to be called 'son'."

I chuckle then, shaking my head a little to clear the fuzziness. "Damn, what happened?"

Mitchell reaches to the right, under the creaky chair he's sitting in, and he produces a mirror. "Got shot, Alex."

My mouth dries as I see my reflection. Everything appears to be in place: exposed nasal passages, empty patches of muscle, green eyes that scare most who approach. But there's that still shiny hole where a bullet sunk in, a small gash where the second bullet cleared my head all together. I drop the mirror in my lap, rolling my tongue in my mouth as I stare at my duster draped over the foot of the bed; the thick shoulder pads make it sit unevenly and I remember the corpse whose bag I stole it from, the helmet shipped back to D.C...

"Shit," I don't rub my face like I want to, I know it'll hurt and I'm already in enough pain. "Well, when will I be able to travel?"

Mitchell gives me this crooked look, like he knows whats on my mind, like he knows I'm going to shred that pretty checkered suit. I don't care what he thinks and I'm not usually a man of revenge, I'm an old Irish drunk whose only love has been a flask, for the last two hundred years at least. But I've been shot, a little revenge is in order.

"Ya can leave whenever you want," Mitchell picks up the mirror and sets it where he sits, pulling the covers back from my legs. "I used a decent amount of radiation but not too much, would've healed the scar tissue into your brain and you'd go feral in a few weeks," as I stand and button my pants, he fills a doctor bag with supplies and set it on the bed. "One stimpak a day for the next week and it should heal slow enough from the inside out to be perfectly fine."

"Thanks doc," the coat of the Desert Ranger settles comfortably on my shoulders and I see my bag under the bed. I pull it out and drop it on the bed, unzipping it to see Nezi on the bottom, under a pair of boxers and an empty bottle of whiskey. "They didn' take Nezi," I hold the pistol up, the ivory piece of the serpent comfortable in my palm from the handle.

Mitchell tosses me my hat, bringing a smile to my lips; I need to visit Zion again, but not soon. "Must not've looked hard enough," and he hands me my gun holster that sags on one side of my hips.

I shrug and holster Nezi. "Doesn' matter," I shoulder my bag, the meds tucked away inside. "I'll get whatever they took back," it was a promise. "Any idea where they went?"

Mitchell shook his head and I watched him tug on some work gloves. "Go ask Trudy, she been complainin' about them breakin' her radio all morning."

I remember that, I remember it bein' the reason we even met, the checkered man and I. I followed him to the Goodspring Source on my bike, he heard the engine rattling but he was alone and had nowhere to hide. The Khans came out of nowhere, jafter me after I parked, beat me senseless and then. . .

I nod and tip my hat. "Thanks again, Doc."

Mitchell smiles and grabs a shovel; I remember a similiar shovel throwing dirt on my face. "Its the least I can do, Alex. Ya fixed the still and cleared the schoolhouse of those mantis and the nest. You've helped us, I welcomed you back to the land of the living."

I chuckled and headed for the door, pulling my flask from my pocket. "Well, I'll go speak to Trudy. Maybe I'll swing by after awhile. . .before I leave."

Its like he knows I won't say goodbye. He doesn't even say anything, just follows me out the door, into the blinding sunlight. I stick my flask away, watching Mitchell round the house with that shovel.

"Bye Mitchell," I mumble, and walk towards the saloon.

I can smell the moonshine from here.

* * *

For the first time in about three years. . .I didn't want to leave a town.

Goodsprings was a haven, an oasis in this backwoods, bone dry expanse of drugs and corruption. And Trudy brewed up some damn fine moonshine in the back of that saloon, hope she doesn't notice I swiped a jug.

I screw my flask shut and drop it into my pocket, crouching down in the center of the road leading up hill to cork the moonshine. I grab the handle and start walking again, whistling an old tune I really need to write the lyrics down too; what if I forgot the Drunken Wailer? It'd be a shame to lose such a fine song in this day and age of repeating holotapes crooning of love and forgotten things.

I pause in the center of the road and think, nodding when I decide right is where I need to go. My boots kick dust onto the hem of my duster but its not like I care. Goodsprings Source isn't far and I'll leave the wind to shake off the dirt.

I look up at the sky and contemplate just resting there for the night, I still haven't replaced my headlight from a little run in with some raiders near Nipton. . .my bike is gone.

I stop at the end of the rough path leading to the source for locals, dropping the jug of moonshine and my pack. The jug thunks and the liquid swishes, swirls and continues to make noise as it rolls in a half circle before bumping into my boot.

"Fuckin' really," I looked up to the sky. "I got shot in the head - I can't keep my bike?!"

I guess my life was a fair trade but. . .I put so much love into that thing. A year of love, would have given far more but resources. . .I shook my head and threw down my hat, taking a swallow from my flask as I walk to where the handle bars of the bike left stripped marks against the old painted railing around the pump.

There were two sets of tracks: where I rode in and parked from the East and where someone took off South.

I sighed and snatched up my hat, tugging the brim down over my eyes as I gathered my belongings. I began to follow the South tracks, taking another small sip of my moonshine - well, I guess it'd be Trudy's actually. Hope the ol' gal doesn't burn me too hard when I'm gone.

I shrug down a small incline, breathing a sigh of relief when I see the men working to repair an old, severed radio were decked in NCR garb and were sweating like pigs, the smell permeating the air from ten feet away easily told me that. I watched as blue lights arched through the air, melting metal - on - metal in a show of sparks and white hot glows.

"Halt! State your business ghoul."

I stumbled to a stop, raising my hands - and moonshine - to a rather fetching Ranger with Marksman Carbine pointed right at me. "Ho, lass, don't shoot," her face loosened a little but that gun stayed pointed at me. "I was jus' walkin'," I jerked my chin down at the tracks beneath her boots. "You're mussin' up my trail."

She looked down and then side stepped the tire marks, shouldering her gun with an annoyed expression. "Oh, so you're the owner of the bike?"

I lowered my hands then, seeing caution make her eyes harden but I could care less about her. I wanted my bike, dammit. "Yeah, who th' hell took her?"

The Ranger raised an eyebrow at me then craned her neck up at one of the men dangling from the tower by a harness. "Hey Clarence," he looked down, confusion in baby features; kid couldn't be any older than seventeen. "Where did Barton go with that bike? Ghoul here is lookin' for it."

This Clarence blinked a few times then looked South, shielding his eyes from the failing light with his hand. "He's back at that PG camp," he looked down at us. "Don't think he's leavin' this time!"

The Ranger shrugged and looked back to me. "There ya go."

I tipped my hat a little. "Thank ya, ma'am."

I started walking again, agitated and ready to take my frustrations out on this 'Barton' and maybe any Ganger that got in my way. I wasn't typically a violent man but no one touches the bike - ever.

"Hey ghoul!"

I groan and stop, looking back at the Ranger. "Yeah?"

She held the gun by the barrel now, hip cocked and sweat on her brow. "If ya try to kill Barton," I raised what I remember to be my eyebrow - or where it used to be at least. "Better be fast."

I grinned. "No problem."


	2. Its All A Kick In Th' Head

_**Its All A Kick In The Head**_

* * *

I didn't have far to walk, just over a bump in the land and around an old, crumbling road maintenance building. I left my bag and moonshine at the base of a boulder and climbed up it with a little effort. Crouching down, my knees ached and I grimaced; nah, no old age here.

I pulled my binoculars up from where they thumped against my chest and peered out at the camp, seeing to Gangers sitting at a rickety table playing cards. A moment later, I spotted my bike. She was leaning up against an r.v. minus the wheels and looked pretty good still, save for the hollow socket where my headlight should be. I jumped when dirty grey cloth blocked my view and pulled back for a moment. As my eyes settled, I adjusted the scopes and found the culprit.

That had to be Barton. He wore a grunt outfit, common on new members of the NCR. Even if he weren't wearing that, the service rifle leaning against my bike gave him away.

He set two beers down in front of the Gangers and opened his own, taking a thick swallow that dribbled down his chin. I pulled the binoculars from around my neck and hopped down from the boulder, shoving them into my bag before I curled my fingers around Nezi and began to stalk toward the end of the old trash rig they were hold up against.

My boots smacked softly against the pavement as I bolted over the highway, sliding down the small slope into a shallow puddle of radiation and muck. I slipped Nezi from her holster and moved around the tail gate, peeking around to the table.

And I locked eyes with one of the Gangers.

"Oh shit," he spat, snatching up his 10mm and firing sloppy rounds at me.

I ducked back behind the trailer, hearing two bullets ping against the metal and one more bullet bite the dust, literally. My eyes widened as a bundle of three sticks of dynamite bounced in the dirt at my feet and I chanced it. I leapt out into full view, firing three rounds out of Nezi until I slid in the muck behind the r.v., right into a powder charge.

"Oh c'mon," I whined, shoving Nezi into her holster as a loud explosion went off behind me.

I pulled my trench knife out of its place against my ribs and clambered up the ramp to my left, the powder charge beeping faster and faster. As it went off, I stumbled but managed to kick off the top of the r.v. I leapt down and slammed my knife into the right shoulder of a Ganger with almost white hair. He screamed as I landed, falling to my knees and dragging the blade down with my weight. It sliced and cracked through what it could, finally breaking free near the third or fourth rib.

I jerked the knife out and whipped around to the next available target, finding Barton with his rifle pointed at me. It belched but I ducked, my heart pounding in my ears as the bullets sprayed overhead. Lady Luck was on my side because his gun jammed a moment later and I sprung forward. My knife sunk it his thigh but as he fell, I had to pull it out so he didn't take me rolling down the hill with him.

I watched him scream and hold his thigh but was more focused on the footsteps approaching me. I reached down and grabbed the muzzle of Barton's service rifle, swinging it around and slamming it into the Gangers head. It crunched and collapsed, the bone jamming into the gun and leaving me unable to pull it out without some force. I didn't want the gun, so I left it and grabbed the pistol from where his hands had dropped it.

I shrugged down the hill towards Barton, flicking blood from my knife before sliding it into its sheath. I crouched down beside him and he stared up at me in horror, I could only tsk.

"Real stupid kid," he groaned. "I may not support the NCR one hundred percent but abandonment is no way to go and disgraceful. As an army man maself, I have to dissaprove."

He barked out a strangled laugh. "You have no idea," he spat. "No idea what's going on in this place. You just don't understand. Caesar's Legion is going to burn you all."

He began to laugh but I didn't care. I pressed the gun against the side of his head, labeled it a mercy shot and told him to "Shut up," before pulling the trigger.

* * *

I hadn't been to Primm in weeks.

The nickname was Little Vegas or something along those lines and even after the war, it lived up to its reputation. Two casinos usually hosted at least a hundred or so people, residents included, and both smelt like mothballs. There was the Vikki & Vance, a classic that I still favored even after two hundred years. And then there was the Bison Steve, big and mostly for looks. Where, before the war, the place had gleamed and glowed in rustic colors with a ball room that hosted weddings regularly, the place now lay half empty with blood stains in the carpets.

Most of which were just cause by Deputy Beagle and yours truly.

"Think that was all of em," Beagle's revolver shook in his hand.

I glanced over at him from reloading Nezi, thanks to the dead convict at my feet, and nodded. "Yeah, I think so," I holstered Nezi and looked around, adjusting my duster. "Guess we should get outta here. NCR will clean up the mess."

Beagle holstered his revolver and walked beside me as we crossed the ballroom. "Think they'll really help?"

I nodded. "Yeah, no faith in the NCR?"

"I don' know," he shrugged as we pushed through the double doors, joints creaking. "Seem like they can barely hold their own around here. I mean, there were about fifteen convicts in there and we killed them all. Just the two of us. There are six men over there."

I sighed and hopped up onto the sidewalk, eyeing my bike in the distance; guess I would have to wait at the Outpost to have her light fixed, and her tires needed some air. Fuck me.

"Well, I think once we have their occupation established things'll get better," Beagle snorted. "Don' give me that crap," I ran a hand over the chipped seat of my bike." Look, I got request forms for some Major Knight at the Outpost. He's supposed to be the caring sort so we'll see. Have some faith."

As I kicked the bike to life, Beagle jumped. "I don't have faith in anyone," he all but screamed over the rumbling.

I just shook my head and pushed off towards the ramp leading down to the highway. One good thing about the apocalypse? No traffic, no looking in case I get run over. Blessing and a curse because it makes me realize how empty the world really is now. Over here at least. In the Capitol Wasteland -

I ground my teeth and shook my head, weaving over the median to avoid the heavy craters on the left side of the highway. As the road smoothed, I tried to remember my task. Primm needed law and it was either NCR or PG's and. . .considering I slaughtered two of their members and a new recruit, I don't think I could waltz in there looking for that old lawman. Just needed to drop off these request forms, crash in a bunk for the night and I was on my way again.

As I crested over the old Highway Patrol station, I saw thick, black trails of smoke curling over the dust storms over the race track. I quirked my brow but made a note to worry about it later. The sun was getting low and I had no lights.

The climb up the hill to the Outpost was rough, thats one hell of an incline. Weaving between abandoned cars and two semi's, my bike almost growled at me. I sighed when the boots of the NCR statues loomed over me, immediately hitting the brakes and letting the engine die. I pocketed my keys and grabbed the handle bars, walking towards the Brahmin pens - my destination the half ass built shed near the far West side of the lot. Scraggler merchants flopped around on the ground, mostly looking drunk but their guards were sober. There were four caravans scattered about, each as agitated as the next. The Brahmin were unsaddled and I found that odd. They must have been stuck here for some time.

Inside the shed was a bike similiar to mine, only painted black with a rough spray job of the NCR bear on the back. A shelf to my right was graced with freshly polished tools and antique parts, the back wall of the shed home to several generators and a radio that belted out Big Iron like it was its duty.

"Alexander, you son of a bitch."

I looked over my shoulder and grinned. "Kilborn," he took my hand in an overly firm grip, giving it one shake before passing me to turn off the radio. "Been awhile since I saw you."

He chuckled and squatted down to sit on a stool near the bike, reaching under the seat to fiddle with something. "Been ten years, ya old coot," I chuckled. "Nice ta see you finally got you a ride, can't believe you walked for two hundred years."

"I've had other vehicles here and there," I watched him for a moment. "The bikes actually why I'm here - well, and I need to deliver some papers," I leaned the bike on its iffy kickstand. "But the bikes more important."

Kilborn nodded and adjusted the seat a little, looking unconvinced of something. "Well what seems ta be the problem?"

"Raiders shot out the light and the tires need to be filled some more, may need some cells to keep her going but I think she could make it up to Vegas on what she has."

Kilborn finally looked up at me, greasy fingers stilling in a stained cloth. "Vegas? Why would you wanna go there?"

I hesitated then sighed, removing my hat and gesturing to the bullet wound. "Got shot by one of the hotel owners," I eased my hat back on my head and shrugged. "Gonna go have a little chat."

Kilborn snorted. "Yeah sure, a chat," he walked over to my bike, crouching down to examine the damage to my light. "Just go do your business. This may take awhile."

"Got all the time in the world," I turned to walk away but reached for my flask instead. "Gonna be here til morning so take yer time, lad."

I left him chuckling and crossed the lot to the main office building of the Outpost. Inside was a breath of fresh air, cold air conditoning rattling in three windows and it was nearly empty. One man stood behind the counter looking bored out of his mind so I figured he was the Major I was looking for. Well, the beret gave him away too.

He perked up just a little as I approached. "Caravan, citizen, pilgrim, or. . .?"

I paused, papers in hand. "Uh, Courier, I guess."

He opened a dark red journal in front of him and wrote down Courier, the date and the time before snapping it shut. "Just need something for the log book," he slid the journal back into a cavity behind him, turning back around. " Keeping tabs on traffic through the Outpost. . .although mostly just in these days."

Well thats great, why was he telling me this again? I opened my mouth to speak but he kept going.

"If you're looking for the commanding Officer, he's in the back. Although. . .he's got a lot of his plate, so if you speak to him. . .keep it short. Also, if you need any gear checked, we can get you up and running again. . ..once you fill out the work orders and sign for the parts of course."

He was reminding me why I was generally agitated with the NCR and tried to avoid them when I could. But I served before the Great War - though if you ask me, there was nothing great about it -and I know he's just doing his job. Still, I wish he'd shut up.

"So," he faked a smile. "What can I help you with?"

Finally. I set the forms out in front of him and his face creased in seriousness, eyes scanning over handwritten details. "Primm is in dire need of some real law," and Beagle just wasn't cutting it.

Knight shuffled the papers. "I'd like to help," he straightened the papers out. "But we can't spare anymore have to maintain a minimum headcount here, orders from the West."

I groaned, wracking my brain for anything to just get this over with. "Having Primm - and the trade route," ah, there go the little wheels turning in his head. "under NCR control would help back West."

He rubbed his chin in thought. "I see the wisdom in that," I know. "I'll radio up to have additional support sent to Primm as soon as possible."

I grinned and smacked the table. "Alright then," I paused, considering what I heard him mention earlier. "There a way to make caps around here?"

Knight tucked away the forms under his desk and pointed towards the back. "Talk to the commanding officer. Ranger Jackson."

I bobbed my head. "I thank ya kindly."

I roamed down the hallway, trying to rack my brain for a rough estimate on Kilborn fixing my bike. It wouldn't exactly be cheap, but I just needed a little extra. I found a ranger sitting in the back, lounging on a couch and listening to Mr. New Vegas. He looked up when I entered the room, tilting his hat up with his thumb.

"Whatcha need, stranger," he tilted back the bottle in his hand.

"Heard you may have a way for me to make some extra caps."

He quirked a brow but I couldn't see his eyes through his glasses. "I may be able to procure you some kind of reward."

"Great," something seemed off about how he said that. "Whats the job?"

He hummed a little bit and wiped his mustache, setting the bottle down near his feet. "I nedd to get the caravans moving again, that means clearing the path North. There's too much crawling up the asphalt to allow it," now that he mentioned it, I did see an unusual amount of ants crawling around.

I shrugged. "Sounds like a deal."

He stood and shook my hand. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But why don't you wait til light to go after em."

I chuckled. "Hey, no arguments here. There a place where I can get some food?"

"Sure, the bunkhouse. The building out to the right."

I nodded. "Well that's where I'll be. Anything else needs done - just come tell me."

Jackson nodded. "Will do."

* * *

After getting my things from the bike, I mosied on over to the bunkhouse, being greeted by the smell of grilled mantis legs and cigarette smoke. There were several stools occupied around the long bar and the dark skinned woman behind it was playing a hand of Caravan against two others which I found nearly impossible to win.

I found a stool empty near a woman in leather and a cowboy hat. She was hunched over a bottle of whiskey and was muttering something under her breath, but I didn't care enough to catch it. I dropped my back, with moonshine, onto my feet and ordered a whiskey as well, with iguana bits.

My eyes flickered over to the woman one more time, but that seemed good enough because she scowled and snapped at me. "Lookin for trouble?"

I hesitated. "No. . .only looking around."

"Well keep those eyes up and turnin'" she grabbed her whiskey. "Or I'll set em spinnin," I like this girl. "Ain't got no time for gawkers. Or someone lookin' for somethin I ain't sellin'."

I looked down when I heard a plate clatter in front of me and grinned at the jerky like morsels in front of me. "Thanks," I slid twenty caps over the counter and cracked open my whiskey before turning back to this stranger; she still looked agitated. "How about a drink?"

She actually chuckled, but only a little. "How about a drink? You mean how about a couple."

I nodded and raised my whiskey. "Cheers to that."

She clinked our bottle together and watched me chew before speaking again. "What brings a ghoul to the Outpost?"

I shrugged. "Gettin' my bike fixed, doin' an errand for some caps."

"How many?"

I smirked and took a quick swig of my whiskey. "You want in already? We haven't even spoke through one bottle yet."

She chuckled. "Ain't got time for that. Need somethin' to pass the time. Not like we're gonna run away together."

I chuckle. "Fair enough," I ripped through another chunk of meat. "Ya really want the deats?"

"For half."

"For fourty caps."

She groaned. "Deal."

* * *

I both love and loathe my trench knife.

Had it most my life, always the last resort and always helped me out of those sticky situations. One razor sharp edge, slices easily through cloth and skin like butter. One side serated to hold for close combat, add more damage to damage.

But right now, it was most definitely _not_ helping.

"A little _assistance_ over here!"

"I'm a little busy maself, woman," I spat out, trying in vain to pull my trench knife from the ant soldiers face.

Despite having drove the knife down to the hilt in its shell, the damn ant was still trying to get its massive mandibles on me. I kept one hand firmly wrapped around the knife and the other hand pushed back flat against rough shell, both trying to keep it away from me and trying to add counter pressure to pull out this blasted knife!

Cass screamed, but not in pain just anger. She twisted her empty shotgun around and began to slam the butt of it into the soldiers face. The ant squealed and flailed its head around, a hair line fracture cracking up to its right antenna. She slammed it down again and the crack splintered in different directions. The ant squealed again and swung its massive head to the right, knocking her in the side and making her stumble then fall.

"Son of a -" I returned my main focus to the ant I was fighting and jerked back on the knife again.

The ants bulbous eyes crinkled like they were dry and it let out this weird noise, like a mixture between a gurgle and a growl. Its mandibles cracked together loudly and I had to curve back to miss being crushed between the razor edges. I raised my right leg and slammed it into the ants face, caving in its right eye. It jerked its head back and my eyes widened as I went flying over the monstrosities body. I groaned as I rolled on the concrete, blinking slowly as I looked up and saw the ant screaming, its feelers spassing around the hilt of my knife.

"Die!"

I watched in mild amusement and mild pain as Cass came charging in, shotgun raised above her head. The stock must have been built by the Gods because I can't tell ya how many times the beat it against the ants skull. Thirty. . .maybe fourty five times? No, longer because before too long she was just hitting the road and the ants head was a big pile of mush.

I pushed myself to my feet, groaning as I placed my thumbs against the small of my back and arched. I looked around for my hat while Cass continued to pummel ant goo and found it upside down a few feet away. I scooped it up and saw a teeny tiny ant worker scuttling away towards the Ivanpah Race Track, no doubt to tattle on us. I chuckled and stuffed my hat on my head, walking back towards Cass.

"Down girl," I grabbed her right arm, making her look at me in a crazy way.

She looked back down and grimaced, holding a gross shotgun up. "Great," she muttered. "I'm not cleaning this."

I chuckled and reached down with a dusty rag, dangling my trench knife in front of me. "Yeah. . .guess we can crash at the Outpost and make one of the lackess clean em up."

Cass grinned. "Now that sounds like a plan," she gave her gun a nasty look. "Guess I'll carry it back to Primm," she shouldered it. "Maybe they'll have something for me to wrap it up in."

I shrugged. "I'm sure Nash has something," I wrapped up my knife. "But hey - we killed those bastards and now we get our reward."

Cass looked around, observing the several dead ants and grinned at me. I grinned back and we both arched our hand up, resulting in a loud and. . .pretty painful slap.

"Ah cocklickin' cunt sniffin'," Cass dropped her shotgun and did a weird little dance, cradling her hand.

I stared at my own palm, feeling that tingling but I was a ghoul. Too many layers of dead skin to actually feel the full force of the pain. "Aw c'mon, lass it wasn' that bad."

She glared at me. "Shut up!"

I chuckled. "Wanna try it again?"

"Fuck you, Alex!"

"If you insist."

* * *

 _ **Yeah...Cass and Alex are gonna be fun partners.**_


	3. Squirm

_**I'm glad everyone is enjoying this, its probably the only New Vegas story I've realm enjoyed working on.**_

* * *

 _ **"Squirm."**_

* * *

Well, I can tell you that Beagle has the greatest reaction to ant guts. Like, ever.

"Pussy," Cass muttered, staring down at Beagle - who had fainted. "Just asked him where I coul' get somethin' to wrap ma gun in."

"Cass, ya shoved the butt of the gun in his face. Look, he has some goo on his nose."

We both leaned in, me reaching down to flick away the yellowy chunk of what could have been brain matter, or just guts. Cass really obliterated that damn ant.

She snorted and straightened her back, looking over at the trickle of people gathering in front of the Bison Steve. They were piling the dead convicts in a big bonfire in the center of town. I looked over at Cass and saw her covering her nose with her gloved hand. Yeah, the smell was extremely unpleasant, but I had smelt worse in two hundred years; I still remember the rotting stench of my face melting away at the beginning of the apocalypse. I shook away the memories and waved at Nash, who was staring at us from the front of his store.

He tugged down his bandana from his nose and mouth, handing off his shovel to his wife at his side. She slung it over her shoulder and pat his shoulder before moseying off to help the others.

"What can I do ya for, Alex?"

"Well, Nash, we had a mean run in with some ants up the road and need somethin' to wrap Cass' gun in and my knife," I sure as hell wasn't gonna clean the increasing fowl smelling goop from my blade.

Nash rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, alls we got are some t shirts. Convicts stole what was left and hauled it to the prison."

"Guess they don' need clothes at the prison," Nash chuckled and I smiled. "Just need one."

Nash bobbed his head. "Can do, why don't cha come over to the Express and have a drink while I get ya set up?"

I shrugged. "Hey, a drink always sounds great to me."

"Damn straight," Cass grinned and followed dutifully beside me. "I like this guy."

Nash chuckled and opened the door to the Mojave Express, ushering us inside the stale smell of empty ass - trays (yeah, that's how I say ashtrays, funnier that way) and those de - licious radcakes Mrs. Nash makes; I tell ya, that woman has a calling with food. I see my blade on the counter and Cass kept a hold of her shotgun, her nose twitching like a hounds when she heard Nash clinking together glasses in the back of the store.

"Gotta say, Alex," Nash reappeared with three glasses and one glass of scotch. "Was a blessing you showed up when ya did. Got those convicts outta here when the NCR wouldn't."

I chuckled and leaned on the counter, watching the clear alcohol swirl in the glasses. "Well, hate ta disappoint ya then, lad," I grabbed one of the glasses and stretched back to hand Cass her glass. She was leaning back on the wall by the door, looking as tired as I felt. "But I brought up papers to the Outpost for the NCR to start an occupation of Primm."

Nash quirked his lips in the corner and lifted his own glass up. "Well, guess its better than those convicts sweepin' in again," Hs grumbled.

"Ah, don't sound so happy, chief," I glanced over at the big metal ball on the counter. "Hey, that an Enclave Eyebot?"

Nash looked over at it and shrugged, taking a thick swallow of his drink before he walked over to it and rocked the chassis. "Don' know about Enclave, but yeah this little Eyebot got shot down by Fiends. Has a scavenger bring 'im in but I don't know how to fix him."

I licked the alcohol from my lips and set down my glass, ignoring the small droplets still rolling in the bottom. "Mind if I take a look?"

Nash waved a hand and refilled my glass then his before throwing away the empty bottle. "You fix you can keep it," he disappeared around the back, presumably to get another bottle.

I ran a hand over the metal body, poking around the holes where a .308 caliber pinged off. "These bots are some tough little bastards," I muttered.

Cass chose then to speak up. "You called in an Enclave Eyebot. How'd you know?"

I shrugged. "I spent the better half of six years in D.C. and they're pretty common over there," maybe not so now. "I recognize the model too, and the faded Enclave symbol on the bottom here, see?"

I rolled the ball of metal over and pointed at the insignia that was hardly visible, but I could see that 'E' and stars a mile away after the battle in D.C. It was really war, the Enclave are nasty little buggers even now, what's left of them anyway; some of the things I saw in Raven Rock were inhumane, as far as that moral code goes these days. Experimentations, abductions and trying to control Deathclaws? It was a mad house over there, but this little guy was definitely Pre - War judging on the amount of wear and tear, not to mention the way its built. It had far more prongs sticking out the back than I remember seeing on the newer models back in Raven Rock.

"What th' hell is there to do over there anyway," Cass ser her empty glass on the bar. "Place is literally a Wasteland."

I nodded and popped open the back panel, seeing some wires that had rattled loose. "That's exactly why I liked it," I muttered, digging around in a bucket full of scrap electronics. "No taxes, no legal limits. Everyone was a damn raider but there were good people. The Vaults over there are nothing compared to the creepy ones here and I unfortunately spent a lot of time in those Vaults, thanks to a debt owed."

"What kind of debt calls for tromping around in those things," Cass snorted.

I chuckled a little and replaced a swirled yellow wire, having to splice it on one end. "Kid I knew, she made a better life for a town I called home and I figured the least I could do was help her out around the Wasteland. She was from a control Vault over there and didn't know squat except for drinking and killing. Didn't know how to think straight and she needed the muscle."

Cass leaned back on the bar beside me, cheeks lightly flushed. "Ya jus' been all over the place, huh?"

I shrugged and closed the panel, making sure it was secure before rolling the eye of over again; now to pry the slugs from its grill. "Spose so," I mumbled. "Maybe I'll tell ya all about the places I've been to some time. It's actually quite the tale, mostly involving D.C."

"Mojave has plenty o' adventure, I'm sure," she mumbled.

"Oh I'm sure," I jolted when I heard the speaker on the eyebot crackle. "Well I'll be damned, it worked."

"Ya mean you had no idea what you were doing?"

I grinned at her. "Exactly."

The little - okay, it was _far_ from little - eyebot shuddered and began to rise, dropping a foot before it climbed to and bumped into the ceiling. It shuddered again be for it shook and tilted it's grill down to me. It let out a series of beep/chirps and mechanical male voice belched out:

" _Companion Protocol::Begin"_

Cass and I blinked, looking to each other before she snorted and held out her glass to an approaching Nash. "Great, got ourselves a floating trash can."

"Aw, that's mean," I scolded her and looked up at the eye of. "Got a name, boy?"

He shuddered again and belched out " _Subject E: DURAFRAME experimental Eye Bot; ED - E"_

Cass, Nash and I shared a concerned glance before Nash shrugged sloppily and lifted his glass to his lips. "License plate nailed on 'im says _2ED-E59_ , just call it ED-E."

I nodded and looked back to the bot. "How about that? ED-E?"

He chirped/beeped and bounced in the air for a moment, then he shuddered and began hovering around the room. I sighed and grabbed my refilled glass from the counter, downing the whole thing in one swallow.

"Gonna keep 'im, Nash? Seems pretty durable."

"Said ya fix it you can keep it, I don't need one."

"Could be a surrogate Courier," Cass shrugged. "Look' like it got a luggage compartment on the top of it. Better than a person carryin' packages."

"Can't get shot in the head," I mumbled. "Speakin' of that, we gotta go," I slapped the counter and pushed off.

"Aw, why ya leavin' so soon," Nash asked. "I was gonna open brandy."

I stumbled, wanting to share in the whine Cass gave. She looked at me with this pleading expression and held out her hands helplessly.

" _Brandy_ , Alex."

I waved a hand. "Yeah, I know what brandy is and as tempting as the offer is, 'm gonna have ta pass, lad. Gotta get back to my meds at the Outpost. Got that shirt we needed?"

Nash nodded and slid one over the counter. "Shame ya gotta go, stop by again any time."

"Will do," I grunted, ripping off one of the sleeves and wrapping my blade up tightly while Cass wrapped her shotgun. "Ready?"

"No," she grumbled. "But I guess I got no choice. We taken the trash can?"

"His name is ED-E," I corrected her. "And no, Nash ya gonna keep 'im?"

The old man shrugged and looked up at ED-E, who was 'staring' at me. "S'pose so," he nodded. "Yet right, maybe I can use him to make runs. Would be a little easier."

Cass looked at me smugly as she bumped open the door with her ass. "He used _my_ idea."

"Want a cookie?"

She huffed and jumped back while I pressed myself against the door, both of us startled by Beagle who had limped up. He was rubbing his head where it had hit the concrete and was king of slumped over, looking between the two of us with a scrunched up face, like he were staring at the sun.

"Ya guys left me out on the road," he complained.

"Figured it best," I chirped.

He waved a hand at me. "Whatever," he paused. "Ya leavin' already?"

"Beagle," I started. "We were here almost a half hour. And I gotta get back to the Outpost."

He nodded. "Okay, okay," he watched ED-E bobbing around in the store. "Am I imaginin' things or is that a floatin' ball?"

"It's an eyebot, Beagle," Nash shook his head, leaning on the counter with a bottle of scotch in his head. "Kids head is full'a air," he griped.

I chuckles and saluted haphazardly. "See ya around," I waved before following Cass where she was already half way down the street. "Ya keep leavin' me," I dug around for my flask.

Cass watched me take a long draw from it and shook her head. "Ya sure like drinkin'," she noted.

I chuckled and screwed my flask shut, dropping it back into my pocket. "Yeah, well you're not too fond of sobriety yourself," she did a sloppy fist pump. " 'sides, 'm Irish. Booze runs in the blood."

She snapped her fingers. "I knew I heard that accent 'fore! Had an old man livin' next to us when I was a kid, said he was a refugee from Ireland. Thick ass accent."

I nodded slowly, thinking. "Wonder if Ireland is still intact," I mused.

Cass shrugged, her eyes lingering on the - surprisingly - fluorescent red Corvega billboard to our left. "Old man never talked much 'bout it, didn' really care to ask."

"Well, I didn' expect ya to know, lass," I hummed and skipped for a moment, noticing that thick pillar of smoke again. "Wonder what's going on over there."

Cass followed my eyes and shrugged. "Don' know, that's Nipton though. Recently took over by Powder Gangers so it could be a drunken bonfire," she spat in bitterness, literally. "Maybe the fire'll catch and burn em all."

I raised where I thought my eyebrow to be. "Well, that's mean."

She waved a hand. "Nah, they're all schemers, crooks and killers. Don't deserve shit."

I couldn't really disagree, I had killed two of their men maself and a handful of convicts of the same lineage. The first was for my bike and the second was to free my place of work. But a town of the men? No one had complained, that I heard of, so I don't think the whole place deserved to _burn_.

As we passed the Highway Patrol and neared the rise in the land, Cass was startled by two large crows flapping off of a bark scorpion carcass, the shell picked clean. I chuckled at her and her freckles disappeared in her blush.

"Stop laughin' at me," she barked, tugging down the rim of her hat and picking up the pace.

"Aw c'mon, its too easy," I jogged to catch up. "Never gotten that close to those birds, huh?"

She shook her head and slowed her pace, tucking her free hand into her pocket. "Nah, they usually fly off long before we get near 'em."

I opened my mouth to speak but had to pause, in both speech and step, Cass joining me as our faces twisted into a mix of confusion amusement.

"If he wouldn't sting us, I'd help," I mused.

"Ditto."

There was possibly the tinniest little scorpion trying to haul away one of the ant soldier carcasses we had left behind. Despite the God awful stench from baking in the desert heat for just a short amount of time, this was pretty adorable. The scorpion had his tiny claws clamped down on a leg and its legs were booking it trying to drag him backwards. We watched as the leg snapped off and the scorpion stumbled back. It rested the claw the leg was in for a moment, bobbing slowly with that traditional clicking/humming sound, and then raised the leg as if in triumph before turning around and scuttling away at top speed.

"That was adorable," Cass cooed and I started to pass her. "So, yer leavin' tomorrow, huh?"

I nodded, weaving around rubble and ant guts that littered the road. "Yeah, gotta pick my way up to Vegas."

She hummed and we fell silent again, only the sounds of gravel slipping under our boots and the howl of wind from the dry lake. I swallowed and looked up the steep hill, seeing those big ass statues getting closer and closer; whose freakin' idea was it to build a road on this hill?! I was panting halfway up, thigh muscles burning and wanting to take a hot shower, just to ease some tension. If they had managed some street lights like around the Strip and Freeside, I would have brought my bike, but I also don't know how Cass would have handled that. Bikes weren't commonly used because of the limited capacity for riders.

"Would ya mind some company?"

I blinked, forcing my eyes off of the spotlights waving us to the Outpost. Cass was trudging beside me, not even breaking a sweat and just as casual as you please. We didn't stop under the statues like my legs begged, we kept going.

"Uh. . .what," smooth Alex, _real smooth_.

She looked at me sideways and stepped around the sandbags and the NCR Trooper cradling her rifle behind them. "Ya heard me."

"Why would ya wanna come with me?"

She shrugged, pausing off to the side when the doors to the main office building swung open. Six Troopers filed out, rifles on their backs, packs slung over the opposing shoulder. They didn't even spare us a side glance through their goggles and that is a little unsettling.

"Ain' been here long but this place is losing its charm," she sighed against the cool air inside. "Ya seem like yet a man with a plan and I like a little revenge plan. Could use an extra gun too, am I right?"

She was right there, I would need an extra gun. I don't really know what I'll do if - _when_ \- I get to Benny and planning like this wouldn't hurt with an extra brain. Even if it was pickled in whiskey.

I grinned. "Sure, why not," she nodded firmly at me and I could see personal wheels turning in her head. "First, lemme talk to Jackson."

She nodded again, this time more loose and care free. "Imma take my shotgun to Lucy, want me ta take your knife?"

Oh yeah.

"Here ya go," I handed it off to her. "Two cots and order me a plate of mantis legs," I handed her a small coin purse I knew was counted out to forty caps; I have a system. "If there's enough left over, get herself somethin'."

"Yes, boss," she pushed open the door with her elbow.

I turned to my left, finding Jackson at the end of the hall, in the same spot I has found him earlier. He was half asleep and going over some files, a whole stack near his feet; a man out of his element. When he saw me, I felt like some sort of miracle thanks to the look in his eyes, like he had found his Messiah.

"Thought I wouldn't see ya til tomorrow," he stated, keeping his thumb in place but shutting the folder in his hand. "What can I do ya for?"

"Got talked into solvin' your bug problem early," Cass and booze were bad influence, I hurt in places I didn't even know I had anymore; I had forgotten the toll walking took on ya.

His lips curved and his body sagged in utter relief. "Appreciate the help. Wish I had more work for you to do," I sure as hell don't. "but nothin' else on the radar at the moment."

I sighed a little, wanting to just be done with him. "You mentioned a reward before?"

His brow furrowed. "No," dammit. "I mentioned you might accidently get supplied," no you didn't. "and I meant it. Not allowed to contract mercenaries at the Outpost."

I almost punched him. He snorted and rubbed his nose, tossing the file to the side and reaching between the couch and the wall to his right.

"But, a requisition form or two can get lost, and they're not gonna come check...so, here ya go. Just between us."

He held out a shiny, newly repaired service rifle to me. I took it with a smile and handed him my ammo bag from my hip as he produced two boxes of 5.55, armor piercing ammo. He also dropped two caravan lunches inside, a haphazard weapon repair kit and a small sack of caps. A soldier entered the room and turned on his heel immediately, filing out of the room. I gave Jackson a look and he waved a hand at the door, leaning back into the couch and snatching up his file.

"Don' worry about him. Just go on, have a rest and I suppose you'll be outta here by morning?"

I nodded. "That was the plan."

He nodded and his beady little eyes scanned over a sentence or two. "Well then, thank you for your help. You've done more than you know."

I didn't even say anything when I left. I was grateful for what he could give and that wasn't the point, he was just so rude in my eyes. I shrugged out of the office and into the bunk house, seeing Cass at the bar and Lucy - the dark skinned woman I saw playing Caravan when I came in earlier - working over Cass' gun, my knife off to the side and still wrapped up.

"Well then, what do we got," Cass watched me set the rifle on the counter, my bag by my feet. "A rifle? That it?"

I shook my head and almost drooled over the mantic legs in front of me. "Nah, got some caps, ammo, some lunches and a repair kit," I muttered before cracking open the bright red shell. "These things never get old."

Cass snorted, watching me eat like a Yao guai. "Got us a bunk in the back, one with a footlocker covered in stupid stickers," she tipped back her glass, an empty plate with crumbs around the edges in front of her.

"Thanks," I mumbled around a mouthful of food.

"How can you eat those things," she crinkled her nose.

I chuckled. "Honey, when ya get as old as me, you'll eat anything. Except for mirelurk cakes. Can't get me to eat those even if it meant my death."

She snorted. "Well, I know one way to torture you."

I rolled my eyes. "The horror!"


	4. The Mighty Alexander

Cass woke up before me, I knew that because when I rolled off the top bunk and hit the floor, I didn't see her.

"Ah, son of a..." I grumbled and shook my head, pushing myself up with my arms.

The bunk room was empty for the most part, two or three soldiers were conked out and I thanked the heavens for that. Yeah, see a two hundred year old ghoul struggle to get out of a bunk bed, real nice; those sheets were trying to kill me and they know it. I swayed when I stood, smacking my lips with the lingering taste of moonshine. Teeth. I needed to brush my teeth. It may not have helped bring my teeth back from looking like tree bark but it still killed bad breath.

"The mighty, graceful Alexander," I furrowed my brow at the whispering and looked to my left, seeing Cass pretending to hide behind a bunk bed. "A rare sight, their main source of food is a moonshine bottle they harvest from other peoples stills..."

"Drunk already," I questioned, standing up and grabbing my chest plate, beginning to strap it on at my sides.

She chuckled and stepped out from the other side of the bunk, watching me shrug on my duster while she sipped languidly at her bottle of...what was that, whiskey again?

"Alex, its almost noon."

I groaned. "Dammit," I slung my bag over my shoulder and plucked up Nezi's holster, clipping it around my waist. "We're probably gonna have to camp out in the desert at this rate," I grabbed the service rifle, prepared to use it as an offering to Kilborn.

Cass was already prepared with her shotgun at her back and a small shoulder bag of meds strung over her chest. We left the bunkhouse, me trying desperately to blink away the pain of the sun from my eyes; son of a _bitch_. As we crossed the road to Kilborn's shed, I noticed there were significantly less caravan Brahmin and drivers around. I was a bit impressed, they must have been letting them trickle through all night instead of tying them up.

"Now that's what I'm talking about," I grinned, seeing a polished headlight and also seeing a few dings removed from the hull. "You're magic, Kilborn," I shrugged off my pack and set it on the bike seat.

Kilborn shrugged from where he was at the back of the shed, goggle on his face and beard dusted with faint grease stains. "Guess so," oh so modest. "Got my payment?"

"I got a hundred caps, a service rifle and some repair kits," the lunches were ours.

Kilborn set down the blow torch - what the _hell_ did he need that for - down on top of an old rolling tool box, shoving the goggles on top of his head. He came over and grabbed the rifle, leaning it against his bike before inspecting the repair kits; he set those on the shelf.

"Well this almost adds up to my payment," he paused. "I guess I'll let ya get away with it - this time."

I grinned and slapped his shoulder, not missing the way he grunted and rubbed the spot. "Thanks lad, well we gotta go now. Vegas a-bound."

Cass looked apprehensive as I waited patiently for her to climb onto the back of the bike; note to self, refrain from mentioning its the 'bitch seat'. She finally slung a leg over the back and slid into place, making me chuckle when she gripped me tightly as I kicked back the stand.

"I got this," I told her as the engine rumbled to life. "Ah, a thing of beauty, she really is."

"Loud as fuck," Cass shouted.

I chuckled and haphazardly saluted Kilborn before easing out of the garage, kicking her over the bumps in the dirt before she caught friction on the pavement of the road. I grinned maniacally as we neared the hill and Cass seemed to realize the mistake she had made by screaming as we began to plummet down the hillside. Did she think I was really a noob at driving? No trust these days, I swear. The right side of the road was the best route but still blocked by a car or two and I relished the turns as my left leg shot out, sliding over the dirt gently but still giving us that gliding turn I was going for.

I pulled back on the brakes, but only slightly, as we neared a particularly asshole-ish semi parked across the road. Cass screamed again and tightened her arms around my middle as we went airborne, only for a moment, and I cackled as the road smoothed into a clear stretch again.

"You _asshole_ ," she snarled.

I laughed, eyeing the giant scorpion shell baking in the midday sun; ants were scuttling around it, one worker tearing away meat from the inside.

"Aw, c'mon - that was fun and you know it."

She didn't say anything or I just didn't hear it, mainly because we were being shot at. Same raiders, I had gotten my hands on their slippery leader before I decided they weren't worth my time; they had scattered into the dry lake and I love my bike, but not enough to potentially have it stolen. The leader was standing in the middle of the road, her metal armor missing two spikes I had ripped out by hand on the left shoulder.

"Get the fuck out of the way," I yelled, making Cass even more nervous when I reached down to pull Nezi from her holster.

The dumbass kept firing, now stepping towards me; I wanted whatever _she_ was on.

Firing on a motorcycle isn't as easy as old holotapes make it look, there's a lot of practice involved, and I just don't have that practice. I fire three times and boy, are they sloppy. But one shot hits her leg and she goes down, howling in pain and gripping her thigh.

It just takes a small nudge and the bike swerves around her, loose asphalt kicked up as we zoom past the crumbling rest stop. Three more junkies leap out from the cinderblock wall but we're faster so I gun in, praying that we don't encounter a bullet.

I holster Nezi once we're a decent distance away and chance a look back, seeing them just dots at the bottom of the hill.

A shaky sigh escapes Cass' lips as I cut the engine just on the edge of Nipton, crouching down in the middle of the road while I roll my bike behind the _Nipton_ sign.

"Cry baby," I chuckled, approaching her again, keys clinking in my duster pocket.

She glares then looks at me like she's found the Holy Grail when I hold out my flask. She stands and takes it, sipping slowly while I frown; that was the last bit of Trudy's moonshine, I drank it faster than I thought I was. I both love and loathe a ghoul tolerance to anything narcotic wise. So, anything _fun_.

Cass smacks her lips and smiles, capping the flask and handing it back to me. "Okay, that makes it a little better. But you drive like a bat outta hell."

I roll my eyes. "What? You wanted me to take it nice and easy? Have that dope fiend blast holes in us," I swill down the last bit of alcohol in my flask. "I don't think so," I screw the flask shut and turn, walking up towards Nipton.

Thick, black smoke still trails across the sky, but it isn't as thick as it was; as we walk pass an old store, I neglect to notice the charred reminds skewered on a bloody spike. Cass pulls out her shotgun as her nose crinkles and I see a large pile of burning tires ahead of us. I slip Nezi from her holster and motion for Cass to go slow as we approach, covering my nasal passages when the smell becomes even too much for my dulled sense of smell.

"Holy moly,"Cass whispers as we stop as close as possible to the pile.

I lower my arm, my nerves tingling to produce long dried tears; I let Nezi hang loosely at my side. "Yeah...this isn't good."

It's not just tires that are burning, there bodies in there. Dozens of them, and from the looks of it, they were burned alive. Some skeletons stretch out from the pile and their arms are reaching out, lingering traces of flesh clinging to their knuckles where they dried to drags themselves away; one has a spear through its head.

Cass sniffs and covers her nose with her sleeve, eyes suddenly bloodshot. "God damn," she spat. "Fiends? Scorpions?"

I shake my head and look around. "No," I point up to the flag flapping in the wind. "Crimson."

A Legion flag claps proudly above the flames, torn at the edges but still noticeable with that big bull painted on. Now that I'm looking around, there are several flags staked around us, all marking bodies basically sodomized by spikes and smaller burn piles.

Cass whips this way and that, looking like a squirrel caught in a trap, and she pulls her hat off her head. "Fucking monsters," she snarls. "Nipton wasn't the friendliest town out there but this is just..."

"Cruel," I tilt my hat up with my thumb, seeing main street close, the tip of the Town Hall standing proudly over the homes. "Come on, lets see if anyone made it."

Three to our left, one to our right, the crucified moan and beg for death. They have large rail spikes jammed through their crossed ankles and in each wrist that are spread at their sides. Blood has long dried in thick spatters under them, dripping through the cracks of the electrical poles they are nailed to. I can't begin to imagine the pain they are in, the look on their faces is not something I have seen in a long time and _she_ had been in worse shape.

I couldn't save her either.

"Alex," Cass hissed in my ear, I heard her shotgun groan at the itch to pull the trigger. "We got company."

I blinked a few times, eyes darting as I watched the Legion lackies jog out of the Main Hall; two on each side and I wouldn't put it past them to have a Decanus or two hiding in this hunting party. Their eyes are hidden behind masks and goggles, old football helmets slathered in red and black paint.

Death.

They were Death.

An old friend.

I look up when I hear the clamber of claws and the snarling barks of Legion hounds. There is one man holding them by the old collars around their throats and the mongrels want to bite into us, eyes an eerie, unnatural red. I've went head on with one of those dogs before, when they tried to stretch further East, and they were more dangerous than their masters.

"Enough," a silky - it makes me cringe to admit the voice is _silky_ \- voice comes out from the building. "I've grown tired of hearing them bark."

The mongrels are silenced with a shrill whistle and they heel immediately, even remaining in place when their handler releases them; their eyes stay on Cass and I though, panting and trembling to launch themselves at us.

The coyote head comes first, scarred nose and plastic eyes. Thick black goggles cover most of his face, leaving me unable to determine what he's thinking; he is Frumentarri without the usual get up and black nailed to his back. He comes close, examining us with me able to see, just a few feet separating him from us and I'm itching to pull the trigger, but Nezi is in her holster.

"Don't worry," he smirks a little. "I won't have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these _degenerates,_ its useful you happened by. I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton. I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caeser's Legion taught here, _especially_ any NCR troops you run across."

My blood is boiling.

"What _lesson_ could you have possibly taught here," I wave an arm around me.

He chuckled and it is echoed in the laugh from his little troop. "Where to begin," he sounds whimsical, like an old man reliving his glory days. "That they were weak? We are strong? This much was known already. But the _depths_ of their moral sickness, their dissolution? Nipton serves as the perfect object lesson."

"I've heard enough," I snap.

He only finds that amusing and I want to tear him a complete new one, let his men see what happens to monsters like him. And I'm sure they would attack, and I'd kill them too.

 _Stupid_ , my rational side scolded. _That's stupid._

I personally think it would be beautiful.

"I think you're eyes will see more than I can tell you," he pulls his goggles down and I am chilled by cold azure eyes. "Take your time," he pushes his goggles up again and starts to walk away. "Enjoy the sights."

"You son of a -" Cass charged forward, shotgun raised but he kept walking.

I grabbed the barrel of her gun and pointed it down, causing the butt of the rifle to jab into her chest and make her look at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. I felt a little crazy, but I was chalking it up to alcohol.

"Alex - what the _fuck_ ," she jerked her gun away from my hand and I looked down at her. "Yet jus' gonna let em go?! They slaughtered a whole town and -"

"Shut up."

She blanked, arm still pointed out after the soldiers who were now gone from sight. "Excuse me?"

I sighed and turned around, heading back down the main road for my bike. "I just don't feel like dealing with this right now, okay?"

There was a long stretch of silence between my crunching steps on the road and then I heard heavy boot thumps approaching me from behind. Didn't turn - didn't _have_ to - to know it was Cass, angry and shaking as she blocked my path.

"You told me to shut up," she barked.

I tucked my hands into my duster and nodded. "Yep."

She gave me another crazy look then threw her hands in the air, shotgun waving like a flag of surrender before she licked her lips, looking around.

"Help me get these guys down," she ordered.

I twisted to watch her stomp towards one of the crucified men and sighed. I was getting too old for this. But I help anyway, even though I know the men tied up will bleed out the moment they hit the ground. Cass is disappointed and I see the familiar ghost of self-blame cross over her face. It would do no good for me to tell her the Legion were too blame, that she couldn't get here fast enough even if she had a damn rocket because they would have just raped and sold her away if they didn't kill her first.

"They're fucking monsters," Cass snarls as we enter the last house beside the Town Hall, eyeing the blood pools on the blood, streaking the couch. "It was a slaughter - they didn't stand a chance."

I nod, cradling Nezi in case those Legion fucks left one of their hounds behind as a surprise; they don't. "Friend of mine had a minor run in with one of their raiding parties back East," I nudged the bloody book out of my way, reveal an undetonated mine beneath it. "She slaughtered them all in one night - that's the only person I know that can possibly take on the Legion."

Cass' eyebrows shoot up under the brim of her hat and I mutter a curse at myself, holstering Nezi. "Have a lot of faith in one woman," she hummed. "Lover?"

Now, I can't help but laugh at that. "Her? Heh, nah the lass belonged to someone else before I could get to her. No, I just watched her destroy so many things you wouldn't believe...she's one tough broad."

Casa whistled. "I think I'd love to have a drink with the woman you hold a candle for."

I chuckle and duck my head into the bathroom, see the blood in an old, yellow tub. "Well, she's an alcoholic that could give you a run for your money," I smile back at Cass. "I think you two would be good friends."

"If you care so much about this girl, why the Hell are you in this shit hole?"

I shrug. "Time to come home, I suppose. Even she knew that feeling, but she wasn't allowed back home. Kind of wrecked her. But I hear good things on the wind. Sent her a calling card a couple months ago. Maybe she'll be it and follow my advice."

"You're in love, Alexander," Cass taunted, dancing in front of me and singing the sentence like a ballad. "Its quite adorable."

I groaned. "Where'd the Southern drawl go? Away with the whiskey? I want it and its indifference back."

Cass cackles and flopped out onto the stained mattress in the bedroom while I rifled through one of the footlockers. "Oh no, I am going to bother the piss out of you about your home town gal."


	5. You're A Lil Late

_**Okay, so I blame Fallout 4 for my absence, its just very addicting and I've been over on AO3 writing smut for it lol.**_

* * *

Nothing beats Mojave sky.

Day or night, calm or violent, the Mojave sky was always something so damn beautiful.

Maybe it was because the bombs only fell in maybe two places around the desert, still, no matter what, the sky had been beautiful even before the war. I had never wanted to be anywhere else from the moment I saw the red sand and found geckos in the hood of my car. Nearly all of my squad mates from way back when had been from the Mojave. They'd shown me all kinds of ways to survive out here on the bare essentials, showed me different hideouts and bunkers that just had to still be together out in the Mojave sand - I just had to find them all over again, if two hundred years hadn't destroyed any of the landmarks.

"Why you makin' goo-goo eyes at the skyline," Cass broke my concentration, but she held a half empty thing of whiskey so I forgave her.

I took it and sloshed the contents around for a moment, taking a mind-numbing swallow. "Was just thinkin'," I furrowed my brow and looked over at her. "Wait, I thought you were takin' a shower?"

She shrugged, nose slightly scrunched. "Well, that was 'fore I saw the showers. Man, they had body parts hangin in there," she shook her head and tugged her hat down a little. "I think they were traffickin' more than people, ya know?"

I wish I had a nose to scrunch up, but my nasal cavities just tingled. "Well that's fucking digustin'," I shook my head and then kicked at the pile of ash; there was a body nearby, a busted laser rifle still clenched in their cold hand. "So, I have a question for ya, lass."

Cass arched an eyebrow and took her hat, fanning herself with the brim. "Ask away then."

I cleared my throat a little, narrowing my eyes at the glint in the distance. "Am I drunk - I mean uh, I'm definitely drunk - but is that what I think it is?"

Cass stuffed her hat back onto her head, reaching over and fiddling with the scope tied around my thigh holster. I frowned at her but she must have been ignoring me because she just pressed the scope to her eye and leaned forward at the waist. Her lips parted as she scrunched up her other eye, hand on her hip. I sighed deeply and leaned back, my flask clenched in my hand; _why oh why do you have to be empty, my tiny friend?_

Cass shrugged and handed me back the scope, which I took with a glare because why couldn't she just hook the fucker back to its proper cord instead of making me do it?

"It looks like. . ."

"Right," I grumbled and the scope thumped against my thigh. "So, should we go check it out or save it for later?"

Cass frowned this time. "I would say later but some scrappers could come through and strip it down for parts."

"I uh. . .I highly doubt that," I murmured, pointing at the satellite in a bored manner.

Cass opened her mouth to speak but a mechanical whir erupted through the air and then a robotic voice - almost like a Protectron - followed the glow of blue that was starting to form from an equally blue orb in the center of the hull.

" _Hostile detected, please clear the area. Any non-hostile life form must clear the area or be vaporized."_

Cass and I pursed our lips, me grabbing a hold tightly to her upper arm and dragging her behind me. She sputtered but I shoved her into the old Streamline and pushed her down into a crouch, so we could at least be some sort of safe but I also really wanted to watch. I'd heard the same protocol before, the same words, same threat and I wanted to know. . . _needed_ to know if it was the same or if I was imagining things.

Again.

" _Alex_ ," Cass hissed and shoved her hat between her thighs, glaring behind rebellious copper curls. "What the fu -"

"Shut up," I snapped, watching the raiders approaching, twitchy from Jet and holding welding tools.

They practically panted as they approached the rapidly-increasing-in-tempo satellite, lighting their tools and pulling down their masks. They all wore the same type of armor, which wouldn't be noticed by anyone else but me. . .in two hundred years, I had rarely seen raiders wear the same armor and when that had happened, we had a very big problem on our hands.

What I wouldn't give for _her_ sarcasm and tenacity right now.

"We haul this out there and Mel will be sure to pay us up for the month," one of the women said, inhaling sharply as she wiped her nose on her arm.

"That son of a bitch won't pay us shit," one of the men snarled, eyes bugging and milky even from where we were. "He'll sit there and say _good job_ then he'll send us off on another death trap showdown."

Did they not _hear_ the fucking beeping? The warning?

I'd seen atomic blasts before, more than I care to count, but fuck did this flash sting my eyes.

There was a loud keen and a pulse made Cass stumble back while I gripped tight to the window frame. The raiders fell back, tools scattering in the dust the pulse kicked up. They all looked up in horror but they didn't have time to run or really do much else because the bright blue orb crackled with electricity and a new wave grew, much like a pulse grenade. I cringed as the pricks of pain covered my muscles, the raiders screamed in pain. I looked back at Cass, who was seizing up, and threw myself over her. I wrapped her in my sister, pulling her hard against my chest and scrambled to my feet, trying to run as far as I could from the pulse wave. The air crackled with energy and another wave knocked me on my ass - or rather, Cass' ass if you wanted to get technical.

Cass screamed as I landed on top of her, the implosion of the pulse making the hairs on even my head stand on end.

"Oh my fuck," I grumbled, pushing up onto one arm and keeping Cass close with the other. I looked back over my shoulder, watched the air crackled with the aftermath of electricity. "Okay, this was a terrible fucking idea and. . .Cass," I looked down, watched her eyes rolling back into her head. "Oh fuck!"

I dropped her gently to the ground, turning her onto her side and forcing her mouth open so faint trickles of spittle and more blood than I felt comfortable with seeing came out. It soaked into the red sand, my hand rubbing gently on her back as her seizing slowed. She convulsed once, twice, and then hiccupped, her body going completely still in what I could only assume was sleep.

I swallowed thickly, leaning in to try to find breathing and a pulse. I found both and sighed in immense relief, dropping back to sit on my heels as I watched the final streaks of electricity dissipate around us.

"What the fuck," I muttered, pushing myself up to my feet with a grunt.

I picked up Cass when I was pretty sure she wasn't gonna swallow her tongue and started trudging back towards the main part of Nipton, having to kick in a door or two because of the handful of drool and whiskey I was toting. When I laid her out onto the only bed with a mattress, she whimpered and her face curled up in pain, which couldn't possibly be good.

"I knew I shoulda told you to run," I sighed, placing her hat beside her head on the mattress. "I'll be back for ya, girly. . .gotta go see what that thing is first."

It was concerning, such familiar technology and a familiar sentry attack. . .it made my stomach flip. I hadn't been this nervous or cautious in so long, I didn't really know how to handle this. Charge over and tear the thing apart? Watch it through the scope first? Wold it fry me like it surely fried those raiders? I had only known I would survive from experience, but that was at a range, I had no experience up-close and personal.

"Guess there's a first time for everything," I grumbled, stepping back out into the hot Mojave sun.

The air is quiet again, save for the faint hiss and pop of the fires be didn't put out around us. I don't pull Nezi out, I don't even wear my damn hat _just in case_. In case of what, you may be asking?

I have no fucking idea.

I cringe as a circle the wide berth of the old picture lot, ducking my head this way and that like the curious, cautious old dog I was. The raider's bodies littered the ground, armor melted to their skin in some places and their skin. One of them, a female, even had her eyes popped; must have been from the sheer pressure in the air, I could still feel the muscles in my arms wriggling at the aftermath.

"Now, just what the fuck are you," I murmured, approaching the satellite slowly.

I jumped when it beeped three times fast, my heart hammering loudly in my chest. The blue orb blinked and then pin points of a scanner, obscured by the bright fucking sun, began to glow and circle around me. I stared down at my hands as the rays of blue curved over my fingertips, my chest plate.

"I knew it," I said lowly, eyes narrowing as I listened to the satellite beep again. "You're a little present from the Big Empty. . ."

"Non-Hostile life form detected, recall codes 776-Epsilon 9 scanning. . .scanning. . .data confirms the presence of Alexander Anderson, Special Air force Soldier. Designation: Head Of Security, Alpha Squad for Z-14 Pepsinae DNA Splicing Lab and X-13 Research Facility," there was a shrill beep. "You are 204 years late for your shift, Mr. Anderson."

"Yeah, well I quit," I snapped, though I knew this was just a machine and not one of the more intellectual monsters they would have sent if they had known. . .

I heard the mechanical sound of the engine whir inside of the chassis but turned away from the satellite, praying to whatever God or Devil that sent this thing that it wouldn't abduct me. Not again, not ever fucking again would I return to that place. They would have to send a Courser after me, to get me to go anywhere like that again. The satellite wasn't sent for me, it wasn't meant to find me, I don't really know the _how's_ and _why's_ but for the moment, the main priority was to get as far from that fucking thing as possible.

* * *

 _"Think this is. . .really necessary?"_

 _I chuckled, it wasn't the best choice, maybe not the right one, but it was something I had to do. Couldn't hang about doin nothin anymore, they didn't need me here anymore, even if_ _ **he**_ _was giving me the look that begged "_ Do you really need to leave us? _"_

 _I ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure and flicked the pout she threw my way. "Yes, lass, I gotta go. You found yaself out in that swamp, I gotta find maself out in the dirt."_

 _She sighed, arms crossing tightly over her chest as she looked over the edge of the cliff we were on. I understood why she, a sniper of all things considering her loud fucking mouth, would want to make a home on this cliff, but it didn't mean I had to like it. You could barely hear the cackle of the market below, something I had helped build and was now. . .abandoning._

 _I sighed and shook my head. "Look, its not like. . .I_ want _to go," I lied; I had wanted this for years. "But I won't be gone foreva, I promise."_

 _She glared at me from the corner of her eye and Rex licked at her palm, Fluffy perched on his head. I couldn't bring Rex, I just couldn't, not this time. He had to stay behind, protect her, protect these people; she needed him more than I did. If anything happened, he could find me again, I wasn't worried about any of that._

 _"You got this, right," I looked over at him, his hard scowl; he always looked like that. He nodded softly, staring down at the dirt and I wanted to laugh that he of all people was scowling. "Guys, we'll see each other again, if I need ya. . .I'll send along a souvenir alright? No airwaves, no messengers, just a little momento with my signature on it."_

 _She glanced at me sideways but I knew she was fine now, her shoulders sagging beneath her armor. "You look like you know you're gonna need to do something like this."_

 _I shrugged. "Its the Mojave, its nothing compared to D.C. but. . .its not friendly, and I could use as much help as I can rally," I sighed and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Keep yourself you of trouble, okay? Can you manage that?"_

 _She snorted and rolled her eyes. "I can try. . ."_

* * *

My eyes were open before I was awake, which was both concerning and. . .what the fuck was that noise?

Every bone in my body aches and protested to me pushing myself up, a side effect of the blast I'm sure, but I had to get up. Was that. . .hacking? Yeah, most definitely hacking, so it had to be Cass waking up and I couldn't let her -

"It fucking _burns_ ," she snarled, holding tight around her waist as she writhed on the ground. "What the fuck is happening to me?!"

I cringed and crouched down beside her, grabbing tight to her arm and keeping her on her side despite her protests. "Its the aftershocks. It could take hours or even days ta get through th' system, lass," I sighed. "Shoulda grabbed ya an' ran, I fucking knew it."

Cass screamed and promptly vomited onto my boots, which I deadpanned at but she was in np joking mood with the way she was thrashing on the ground. I grumbled and stood, looking around but finding no first aid kit, no chem stash, nothin.

"God dammit," I spat out and turned on my heel, grabbing my hat from the mattress I had been lying on.

"Where th' - ah fuck it hurts!"

" _Don't_ get up," I urged, shrugging my coat on and heading for the door. "I gotta find you some Med-X."

"But -"

"Just try not to choke on your tongue, Cass," I slammed the door behind me, shielding my eyes from the sun. "Do you ever go away?"

I looked down both sides of the street, not entirely sure where to go. I perked up a little when I heard the distant spouting of trumpet music. . .was the calvary coming in or was I still asleep? I narrowed my eyes slightly to the West, seeing the glint of my bike and then the flutter of the tarp covering her.

And then a shift.

 _Maybe it was the heat_ , my mind would try to coax into me, but the music could not be faked because it was just so God-damn annoying.

I stumbled back, eyes wide as my ass hit the dirt, a happy little ball of metal bouncing side-to-side in the air above me. I pushed back my hat, half amused and also half startled at the sight of ED-E celebrating. . .well, I suppose him finding me. He dipped up and down before pushing hard enough against my face to send me flat on my back.

"Ya little shit," I snapped with a grin, pushing him off of me. "Ya supposed to be back in Primm, what're ya doin here?"

He let out a few beeps and trembled, my brow furrowing when a small compartment popped open on the side of his chassis. He floated there patiently as I gathered myself up, my palms rubbing together firmly. I didn't fully approach him, I couldn't, because sitting in that small compartment was a full syringe of Med-X; a holotape rested beneath it.

I slowly pulled Nezi from her holster, making ED-E give out small, distressed beeps but I was on full alert. Why Med-X? I would be less creeped out and angry about a teddy bear (and those things were creepy as fuck, okay?), but the disturbance of this alone begged several questions. Were we being watched? Were we just lucky? If we were being watched, why would they give us medicine and not take us out? Wasn't raiders, Scorpions or any of those other fuck-nut gangs around the Mojave. Could it be. . .no, no one from D.C. would come this far out to track me, unless -

I looked back over at ED-E who was shaking worse than a gecko in heat. "Sorry lil guy," I mumbled, keeping Nezi hanging in one hand. "Where'd you get this stuff, huh?"

He gave me a woeful little beep, which made me chuckle, albeit nervously. I grabbed the Med-X cautiously, opting to grab the holotape as well despite every fiber of my being saying _what the fuck are you doing?!_ There was no beeping or count down, wail of siren or anything like that; I have to say, after all of my heartache over the years, I was disappointed to not hear that familiar evil cackle that came with an obvious trap.

"I think they would have rigged you to blow or something," I mumbled, flipping over the holotape as I started back towards the crumbling home. "Wait, you're not gonna blow on me are ya?"

He beeped (shocker) and hovered beside the door while I ducked in. To be honest, I shut it as quickly as possible to purposely keep him outside, just in case he would blow or he was wired to listen in on us. I honestly don't believe he just appeared out of nowhere because he missed me, ya know? I only knew the ball for a couple of hours, even if he didn't show up with the Med-X and a holotape out of nowhere, I would be a little cautious.

"You're Satan," Cass moaned when I entered the bathroom, finding her still in the same position as I had left her moments ago. "Y-You were gone for so long!"

I crouched down beside her. "I was gone for _five minutes_ , you big baby," I rolled my eyes, tugging off the plastic cap. "Now sit still."

I grabbed her bicep and pinned it, much to her annoyance and whimpering, jamming the needle to the hilt into her arm. She tensed up, watching me in horror as I pulled the needle from her arm and tossed it off to the side.

"Now," I started. "I give that ten, and then we gotta get the fuck out of here."

Cass sputtered, ready to push herself up, but collapsing back into an immobile heap on the floor. "Wh-Why do we - mother _fucker_ this hurts," she cringed and curled up on herself, whimpering.

I sighed and stood, walking over to our bags and proceeding to shove everything I recognized as ours into their proper place. Cass was still asking questions but I had to get us out of here, away from ED-E just in case. I wouldn't get someone else killed, ya know, because I was lazy and got too friendly.

Should have never brought her with me.

I jumped when a gentle, shaking hand rested in the crook of my elbow. Cass was giving me this sincerely in-pain look and I sagged my shoulders, dropping my bag with an annoyed huff.

"Alex why the Hell are you freakin," she mumbled. "Did somethin happen?"

I sighed angrily and looked over at the door. "ED-E showed up out of nowhere, carryin the very medicine I was lookin for and this holotape," I flipped it up between my fingers. "Look, I just don' wanna stay here with this kinda shit. We need to get out of here."

She furrowed her brow, dropping her hand and watching me gather our things. "Well. . .why don' we listen to the holotape first, okay? Maybe its jus -"

"Cass, I'm not stayin where he found us," I snapped, thrusting the pack out at her. "We leave in ten."

Cass stares at me, her cheek caving on her right side as she chewed on it. "Fine. . .fine, okay."


	6. One For My Baby

_**It took a bit of work, but I finally mapped out the final details on threading my Fallout stories together. Well, the ones that** will **be threaded. Alex is the most complicated because of New Vegas being as expansive as it is, but Nevaeh may beat him idk.**_

 _ **I'm glad everyone is enjoying this so far and remember to fav, follow and review ya know.**_

* * *

We waited until the dead of night and when Cas gave the all clear that ED-E was well out of range; he was chasing the Legion Mongrels that had - for some reason - wandered back into the town. I carried our packs and Cas held her shotgun out, wiggling through the crack I provided while I did the same. Painful cus it dug my chest plate into my skin, but any further and the jam would creak and I didn't want him knowing about us leaving until we were well on the outskirts of Nipton.

When we reached my bike, the tarp was gone and my nerves were more fried than when he arrived but I grabbed the handlebars and clicked my tongue at Cas. She nodded and kept on my ass - seriously, I could practically feel her breath on my balls here - as we eased the bike over too-loud dirt; it crackled and fumbled out of the tires way as we inched along. Risk alerting ED-E or the scorpions lazing about in the dust storm just to our right? Eh, I think I'll try to balance on that thin line of neither. Unfortunately, we were halfway to the road leading to the mountain pass when I realized how close we were to that satellite. It was scanning the area again, its blue lights flashing over mole rats digging in the distance and then. . . _us._

" _Hostile detected, civilians are cautioned to flee the combat zone_ ," the scanner flicked off and the beeping began; in the distance, I head trumpet music. " _Warning repeats: Hostile detected, civilians are cautioned to flee the combat zone_."

"God mother-lovin _dammit_ ," I snarled and swung a leg over my bike, hauling Cas up by her collar. "Hold th' fuck on, lass!"

"I hate this shit _so much!_ " She wailed, legs kicking out and then straddling the bike in a death grip.

"Shouldn'a came along then ," I kicked the bike to life.

I could see ED-E bobbing over the hill but we had a massive head start and barreling up a decently non-vandalized-or-possibly-raped highway was a huge help. There was no hesitance, no pot holes to thunk through, just clean, eighty miles per hour up a cliff and ya know what?

I loved _every. fucking. second. of. it._

The wind around my face, the threat of the bike flying out beneath me at every twist and turn. I usually settled for the slug of alcohol, but adrenaline was always saved for battle and when I got to use it on the outside, it had me shaking so damn bad but I couldn't stop grinning like an idiot.

 _"Yeah baby!"_

Cas on the other hand. . .

Yeah, she didn't fair too well.

She didn't scream like before, but I could tell she was trying. Her face was buried in my back and I could feel her sputtering against me but every turn I had to make around another pile up of vehicles made her voice jerk into just a plain squeak. It wasn't like trying to climb up to the Outpost again thankfully, but what did worry me were the landmines I could see blinking ahead of us.

"Aw fudge pops."

The first explosion jerked my bike forward and I had to jerk it to the right to avoid the. . .whatever that was leaping out from behind a boulder. He was half naked and waving around a cleaver, shouting something through the foam in his mouth. The second explosion awesomely went off in his face because he was too high for those survival instincts to kick in and say the beepin was bad. The bike was fast enough to barely even get clipped by the next two explosions, and I was no noob to riding one so I managed to keep her straight even though the explosions wanted to toss her tail end all over the place. I could hear screaming behind me and smirked over my shoulder, watching two more Fiends sliding down the hill to reach the idiot holding his face and wailing at the sky.

Once we crested over the next hill I slowed the bike down again but I most definitely was not stopping.

I gripped the bars tight and looked over my shoulder again, catching bloody limbs flopping down to the ground in the aftermath of the last explosion. I sighed and looked forward again, taking the next curve and turning off before I thought it smart to go over that untrustworthy bridge. Novac was only maybe a mile away now, no need in stopping.

I would definitely need a drink after this. . .but Novac didn't have a bar. Cripes, what the Hell was wrong with these people? Oh right. . .right, Legion attacks; couldn't handle those if you were piss drunk.

But _I_ could.

"Ya okay back th're lass," I called over my shoulder.

I trembled when her hiss was in my ear. "I hate you."

I just chuckled and kept my eyes on the road. I saw a Legion party up ahead and steeled my jaw, surprised when they didn't attack us but instead one of them actually saluted me.

What the Hell?

I could hear Cas give the curious sound against my back but another thing that would have to wait until we were at a stand still. I need rearview mirrors, so I could make sure this wasn't a trap or something; Legion being friendly neighbors?

I scared.

"Oh thank God," Cass flailed her limbs as she collapsed to the ground, hugging a chunk of concrete.

I arched my eye at her with an amused expression. "Drama queen," I murmured, dragging our bags from the back of the bike. "Take this," I tossed her bag at her and she grunted when it hit her side. "Well, see, that's what you get fer actin stupid."

"How about you bite me," she snapped and stood, smacking her hat off on her knee. "So, should we go get a motel room 'er what?"

I shook my head and tugged mt hat down on my brow. "We resupply an' then we get the fuck out of here."

Cass hesitated for some reason and then nodded firmly. "Gotcha."

I paused when her face twisted a little. "What?"

"Where're ya goin? Stores are this way," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder.

I chuckled. "I gotta go. . .recruit someone, I'll meet ya back at th' bike," I promised.

She didn't question my motives, thankfully, and rolled her eyes. "Whatever, 'm goin ta see if they have any booze in this shithole."

"Don' wander off too far, we leave in ten," I wouldn't crush her dreams that there was alcohol sold anywhere around here.

She waved a hand at me over her shoulder and continued towards a tent, greeting the woman outside; they must have known each other from the way the woman grinned and blushed. Was Cas?. . .meh, none of ma business about her sexuality, and it would just distract me anyway.

It wasn't my first time in Novac, may not have been recent since my last visit, but I knew it well enough to recognize a few faces. The first most being Manny. Now, Manny was a man of law, even though he acted like he was a run-of-the-mill bad boy turned soldier, but I know Manny and his set of morals. That's why he was no longer running strict with the Khans, but he still had those tattoos peeking up from under his collar when I approached him. I knew he didn't recognize me at first, with the distrust in his eyes and that suddenly tight grip on the strap to his rifle.

But when I got closer, just an extra foot or two, his face split in a wide grin and he started a brisk pace towards me, so I stopped.

"Please don't," I begged.

"Oh yeah."

He slammed into me, and pretty damn hard considering he was just walking fast and not running. His arms snaked around me like a vice and he damn neared lifted me off of the ground but thankfully the Capital put extra muscle and radiation in me so I was at least two times heavier than when he last tried this.

"Bloody Hell, lad," I pushed him back by his head but he chuckled at me, struggling only for a moment. "Quit the shite," and now I was grinning. "See ya not doin as bad as I thought ya would have."

He cocked his head and adjusted his rifle. "Whatcha mean?"

I hesitated and dipped my head a little, hat coming down to block his forehead. "I heard 'bout Carla."

His face darkened and he looked just as nervous as I was mentioning it. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Yeah, that really. . .sucked."

"Sucked? I expected more than that all things considered."

"Yeah, well Boone. . .I think he blames me for the shit," he looked annoyed now.

Boone and I. . .never saw eye-to-eye.

Despite the bigotry in the NCR, one of the high ranking officers accepted me - or rather, enlisted me - as one of his bodyguards when he was doing rounds at the bases and stations around the Mojave. I met Boone on the Strip via Manny, who I had known before that when I was robbed by him and a few of his gang buddies. So short and young, fresh and vicious running up to me and demandin I give him everything I had.

Yeah, we had a little meet-cute like any old couple.

Boone didn't like me right away when Carla opened her big flapper, tipsy off of what the bot at the Wrangler called a margarita - and it was no damn margarita without the lime, the bastard. She thought it was funny mentioning about the time I had hit on her and stolen that one, petty little kiss - which made her throw up afterwards, but she swore it was the alcohol. I didn't really care, about the vomit or Boone's suddenly snobbish attitude, but he took it personal.

Like I'd confessed ta fingerin the lass while we were all seated at the bar together.

"Thought the two of ya were close," we started shuffling towards the Dino-De-Light motel, presumably towards his room. "How could he think such a thing?"

"Because when he moved her out here, Carla turned into more of a snooty bitch than she was on the Strip," Manny shook his head. "Look, I tried to tolerate her, for Boone's sake, but I blew up on her and. . .now he won't talk to me."

I sighed and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Don' worry lad, I'll make him come around. You just get th' rest ya deserve, aight?"

Manny nodded solemnly and I sent him to bed like a child, able to catch the end of Boone's rifle peeking out from between bulbous teeth in Dinky's mouth. I sighed through my nose and tugged my hat brim a little, sweeping back my coat as I started towards the steps. There was a man struggling with a box of plastic dinos, trying to open the door to what I guessed was his house and looking around like he wasn't supposed to be doing it but I think he owned the place so. . .

"Ya know," I grumbled, pushing the still-smoking barrel of Boone's rifle from my face. Gettin real tired of havin guns in ma face."

Boone's eyebrow arched over the rim of his sunglasses - douchebags wore sunglasses at night - and he abruptly lowered his rifle, looking as disgruntled as always. He still wore a hole-riddled shirt and cargo pants, boots laced properly and firmly like the army drilled into your head. And that beret still hung on a crew cut, the patch faded but I still remember what it said: 'The Last Thing You Ever See' laid beneath a bear skull with rifles crossed behind it.

I think I burned mine like a victory flag.

"Alexander," ah, how I have missed that asshole-ish tone to his voice. "Back in the Mojave, I see?"

I nodded. "Yeah, Capital didn't wanna deal with ma shite anymore, got kicked on home," I grinned. "See you're stuck in smallville."

He grunted. "What'd do you want?"

I hummed, rocking back on my heels, hands tucked deeply into my pockets. "Just wanted to know if you still had it in ya to trek to Vegas."

His shoulders tensed. "Why would you wanna go back there?"

I shrugged. "Got shot in the head by one of the bosses," my smile tightened, injected with venom. "Figured I'd ask for my apology in person."

He gave me a once over, probably not seeing the evidence; radiation was a hell of a thing to a ghoul, I still could never get over it.

"And why do you need me to come with you," he questioned.

I sighed. "I still owe ya for Boulder City," he arched that eyebrow again. "So I pay off my debt, and you watch my six again. We did make a good team once, ya know?"

Boone was silent for a long time, though that was no shocker really. Manny always said it was a front, but Boone and I had never had a lot to say to each other so he could be right. We were a good team when we were partnered before everything went to Hell, and there's not many people I trust to watch my back in the Mojave. Everyone's worse than raiders and Fiends, always looking for their own slice and nor caring for anyone else's skin.

Boone was different.

"I do have something you can help me with," Boone muttered. "But its gonna take some snooping."

I shrugged. "I got a skinny gal to help," I smirked.


	7. Good Ol' Boy Style

_**I wanted to post this like a month ago, but I wasn't able to pay my phone bill and seeing as that's what I write on - no update. But here we go and I hope you all enjoy!**_

* * *

"I hate th' both of ya."

"Nah."

"Hey Alex? Go fuck yerself."

I grinned. "Wanna watch, don't ya?"

I could only imagine the way her face crinkled when she made a noise similar to blanching. I chuckled softly and rocked back on my heels, looking over at the back of the Dinky-Dino statue. It was really fun sending Cass through the vents, like the good ol' days with my men but instead it was post-apocalypse and she was a tiny drunk lady.

"Wha' exactly am I lookin fer here," she grumbled, helping as I heard the opposite grate clatter to the floor.

"A safe, a clipboard, a locked cabinet - anythin' that incriminates the only sympathetic lady in th' entire town," I uncapped my flask, taking a slow sip as my eyes roamed around me.

Cass mumbled on the opposite end, now faint as she rummaged through the office. It didn't make sense that only one woman in this entire town had anything nice to say about Carla. She was so sympathetic, a little too much for my taste; I mean, I had known Carla almost as well as Boone thanks to our time on the Strip and I had less nice things to say about her. I can guarantee Carla was nothing like a cactus flower, she was just the cactus: Prickly as fuck and undiscriminating in whom she struck. She had to be with the way she grew up, three brothers in a one parent house hold? I don't know how her momma made it without holding a pistol between her teeth.

I needed ta find Roger.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the task at hand. I heard the rattle of a filing cabinet, Cass cursing at narrow hips or something and then the creak of a safe door.

"Aw yeah," she hissed. "Jackpot!"

I flinched at the echo. "Shut th' hell up, lass. Ain't in the city, people'll hear us."

"Bite ma ass, Alexander."

"Tempting offer," I hummed. "Perhaps over celebratory drinks?"

She groaned and I chuckled of course, scratching at my arms in the tickle of cool desert air. I wanted my coat, needed ma coat, but I had to ditch everything but Nezi back in Manny's place. Couldn't fit between the chain-link and the back of the building with those damn shoulder pads, so bye-bye coat.

I felt naked.

I think I would rather _be_ naked, though.

I jumped when there was a flash down the road, my stomach tightening at the sight of the flashlight bobbing towards us in the distance. "Oh fuck," I crouched down, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Cass! Cass book it, we got us company!"

There was a loud crash on the other side, a string of explicit curses and then I heard her clambering into the vent. Did she even close the other side? It didn't matter, she'd obviously knocked something over or broke something, I doubt a knocked out vent would be what tipped us off. Her eyes got really big when I grabbed her under her arms like a child, hauling her out and pushing her further down the path. She clutched a bundle of envelopes and other papers in one arm, holding her hat down with the other and going faster than me by a long shot.

Damn tiny people, her legs almost left her body she was going so fast. She was already in front of the motel as I was sliding around the corner, having to push off of the ground when my boots slid in the dirt. Cass was laughing as she climbed the stairs, urging a big grin onto my face as I felt the blood rushing through my face and neck. She pushed through Manny's door, scaring the man into flailing off of the other side of his bed while the both of us hit the floor with him.

"What the actual -" Manny peered over the side of the bed, hands gripping the sheets. "Why?!"

I laughed, the action making me wheeze and hack. "L-Let me . . . Hoo wow, let me catch ma breath real quick."

Cass shuddered out a raspy laugh, rolling onto her side and pushing the papers towards me. "Th-That ol' bitch," I lolled my head towards her. "That ol' bitch did it, she took Boone's wife."

"Wait what," Manny was at attention, pushing himself to his feet. "Who took Carla?"

I reached over for the papers, holding them above me as my cheat constricting over and over again painfully; I really needed to do something about that. "I'll be damned," I muttered, shaking my head as I propped myself up onto my free arm. "Th' old bitch really did do it."

Cass pushed up onto her elbows, hat hanging back off of her loose bun. "What're ya gonna do?"

I licked my lips and scrambled to my feet. "Exactly what I told Boone I would do," I grabbed my coat, pulling out the beret.

Manny's eyes widened and he pushed around the bed. "You can't possibly be doing this good ol' boy style, Alex. What about -"

"She sold his _pregnant wife_ ta the _Legion_ ," I glared down at him. "Really thinkin she deserves fair trial? Ya think she deserves any fairness at all because of this shite? I say good ol' boy style is th' only way ta go."

Manny shook his head without hesitation. "No, but we had morals dammit!"

"Yeah, and she doesn't," I snapped. "So, why should I? Yeah, yeah two wrongs don' make a right but it makes me feel better. So step in my way or don't, I can promise if ya do I'll cuff ya to the bed."

"An' I'm guessin not in the kinky way, so boo for everyone," Cass narrowed her eyes as she stood, adjusting her hat. "I know you're a military boy an' all, but shit like this don't fly."

"I was Kahn once, ya know," Manny snapped, fists clenched at his sides.

"So ya keep sayin," I opened the door, waving the papers in the air. "Think the Kahns would let this ride with a trial? Like I said, ya can try to stop me but this bitch is dyin' either way."

Manny's fingers flexed at his sides, his head shaking softly. I stomped out the door, not even angry; there was no point in it, he had his points, I had mine, and we weren't in the military anymore. I was sick of people like this getting away with everything because of these rules. It didn't work before the bombs fell, and it certainly wouldn't work in this new world.

* * *

"Its over."

I held out Boone's beret patiently, standing behind him as he continued to stare down the scope of his rifle, possibly at the spattered remains of a skull and shot out glasses. He hadn't liked at me once, he seemed a bit in shock but I wasn't one to judge; I still had blood on my face from being too close. Cass was waiting for me down the spine, smoking my cigarettes and drinking my whiskey, so I wanted to say something to hurry this up but . . .

Boone sighed and slowly lowered his rifle, leaning it against the teeth he was so snug against. He looked over at me and sighed again, deeply, and all but fell back into his chair. The door bumped into my arm as Cass came in, head ducked as she realized she had hit me; she passed me the flask and I took a fantastic sip. I offered the flask to Boone and he took it without hesitations . . . promptly draining all the whiskey inside.

"C'mon lad, that's cold," I murmured, stuffing the empty tin into my coat pocket. "So, what now?"

He clasped his hands together, elbows digging into his knees. "I guess I'll take your offer," he looked up at me. "If you'll still have me."

I chuckled. "Why of course."

He groaned as he stood, grabbing his rifle and fiddling with the strap. "Get your stuff from Manny, and anything of mine. Not ready to tell him I was wrong."

"I gotcha," he took his beret, tugging it down over his head. "Wait for us at Gibson's."

He nodded and squeezed out between Cass and I, shutting the door softly. I took Boone's seat, shaking my head softly at Cass, she was just staring at me.

"Didn' expect a ton'a excitement, but I expected more than that," Cass muttered.

I shrugged. "Guess 'e already came ta terms with most of this when he . . . did what he had to do. This was jus' tyin up loose ends."

Cass shrugged this time, opening the door and pulling off her hat. "Well, how bout we go ahead and wrap this up? 'm ready to get outta hickville."

I chuckled and stood, following her. "Come on, lass, these seem like yet type of people."

"Cus of th' accent," she shook her head. "Piece'a shit."

"All for you, lass."

Cass stumbled back into me when the door to the Dinky flew open, a bewildered Manny there and looking almost lost.

"He's gone," he questioned, straightening himself and trying to regain his composure. "He left and he didn't say anything?"

"Five minutes," Cass balked. "He's been gone five minutes, dude."

Manny narrowed his eyes softly and I could see Cass prickle, ready to throw a punch. "Boone and I weren't the only ones watching Novac," he warned.

"Well," I stepped around Cass. "Tell ya boys to come on then, seeing as you wanna get aggressive for no reason."

"I have my reasons," he snapped. "I'm up to my ass in problems caused by Boone and Carla, and then he doesn't even care to try and settle shit with me and them? He knows he's leaving me on my ass and possibly dead!"

"Maybe ya don' make stupid bets then, huh," Cass chuckled. "Kahns crippled my caravans from time ta time, I know all about your hobbies boy."

"You don' know shit about me."

"I'm gonna knock th' shit outta ya both," I snapped, pointing at Cass. "You, shut th' fuck up and you," I turned to Manny. "You're still an NCR soldier, why don'ya act like it? Stop hangin round drug addicts and the like and get the fuck out of here? Now, get outta ma way, I got places to be. And Kahns to introduce myself to properly."

He grit his jaw and turned around sharply; much to my own relief, he didn't go to his room but instead went the opposite way. I looked back at Cass and she had an extremely sour look on her face that carried us to the room.

"He was so cheery earlier," she mumbled, grabbing her pack.

"Boone's always a bettin man, probably got 'imself into hot water with some Kahns looking for their pay."

"Don' NCR hate Kahns?"

"Doesn't mean they won't bet with em. I know more than a few generals that like ta bet with Papa Kahn," I hauled my pack over my shoulder, walking towards the door. "But they went for high stakes, Boone would have used them as spies on the Legion, seeing as they're almost in cahoots."

"Think he would plan that ahead? Just to watch some Legion?"

"They have a big camp right down the road, and last I heard there was a group of Kahns lost somewhere around here to the Legion. They could want reparations for their lost men because of Boone."

"How did ya get them from Manny jus' bein pissy?"

I chuckles. "Jus' know my men."

* * *

"I jus' wanted to lay in a bed tonight," Cass grumbled, arms crossed over her chest as she stared up at the sky.

I chuckled from my roll, staring up at the same stars; they were so thick when we were this far from the lights of the Strip. If you went out far enough, a few rare spots between here and the Capital Wasteland, you could map out the thicker clusters that arch and roll through the night sky. That against the backdrop of an endless sky and the silhouettes of the mountains?

I could be an outdoor-sy guy.

"He watchin," she mumbled after a long pause.

I hummed softly, knocking the toes of my boots together a few times. "Suppose, yeah. Still in Legion territory, and 'm sure Kahns are at our ass. I'll pry outta him what was up with Manny, so don' worry."

"Ain' worryin," Cass mumbled stiffly, punching at the bag she was using as a pillow.

"Uh huh, sure ya aren't," I chuckled, pushing myself to my feet. "Imma go scout a little, can't sleep with you mumblin and worryin."

I snickered when her boot hit my back, jogging a little in case she decided to throw something better. "Ain't worryin!" She snapped.

I shook my head softly, jamming my hands into my coat pockets. The desert air was cooling, and I hadn't wanted to make camp so quickly after leaving Novac, but we didn't want to stumble into Boulder City with the light of gunfire over the ridges and then there was the Outpost just on the road.

No, no NCR this late at night.

I wasn't going to try and find Boone, there was no proper point to use. He wanted to scout alone, and he was very damn good at hiding so I would probably be stick stumbling around in the dark until morning trying to find him. So walking softly in the dust was my plan, but I was very much aware around the edge of my flask.

Perhaps I had a drinking problem.

"Yeah, yeah I have a drinking problem thanks to a Wasteland of ungrateful people looking for me to fix them."

I stopped, hand shaking softly around metal. I lowered the flask, staring down at it in . . . annoyance . . . and something else, couldn't quite put my finger on it though. I shook my head and shoved the flask back into my coat, glaring at the lights of Vegas in the distance.


End file.
